Occupational Therapy
by giraffewithstripes
Summary: Dean struggles to help his fallen angel and care for Sam, contains spoilers for season 8 finale.


"Dean!" Sam choked, his eyes taking in the red watercolours, of a normally pristine bathroom. He swallowed as he looked down at the red rosewater, bile building up in the back of his throat. His head snapped up, and round, looking for the pitiful culprit that had made the mess.

Dean was bent over a cup of coffee, something to keep him going. He'd been going back and forth between the prophet, the fallen angel and Sam. The vacant angel and the dying brother. He'd finally snatched a few hours of himself, that he'd put to use, needing to do things other than sleeping: groceries, making sure Cas and Sam got better.

~:~

He wouldn't be able to sleep even if he wanted to. He could still remember Castiel's crying, his pleading, so vulnerable and so crushed, it had been so sickening. This was the angel, the angel, someone who was pure and good and wholesome reduced to a snivelling wreck, a soaked through kitten in the dirt that Dean had found him, hunched over in a ball, arms curled into his chest, his feet touching the border of the dark road. The broken angel had looked so small.

He'd kept his eyes down, as the impala pulled up next to him, barely noticing the soft glare of the headlights in the early morning light. "There's angels everywhere man, what happened with Metatron?" Dean asked.

Castiel didn't look up, he just continued to stare down at the ground, eyes averted from the sky, as if seeing it empty of angels, yet full of morning light would burn holes into his eyes. Dean crouched beside him, kneeling in the ground next to his friend. "Cas," Tentatively, as if Castiel was a traumatised wild animal, he placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Cas." He stated, his voice breaking from all of the horrors, that he'd seen last night, seeing his friend broken, the same way Sammy was broken, but he'd known how to hold him together. But he didn't know how to hold this shattered angel together.

"I'm sorry, Dean, I'm sorry"

And Dean had to forgive him again, and get him in the Impala, and make sure he took his trench coat off, and got some new clothes on, because Castiel was shivering, even though he didn't realise it. "It's okay Cas," Dean said, through gritted teeth, swallowing down the sobs in his throat, trying to ignore the look on Castiel's face as his eyes sparked alight, a look that spelled out my saviour.

Dean bit back another lump that built up in his throat, as from the corner of his eye, he saw the angel, the man, lean against the glass, closing his eyes, breathing heavily, his body weighed down with the task of holding this ancient angel, this immortal, in his now mortal body, finally one with his vessel. We'll fix this Cas, we'll get you back on your feet. Just - please trust me on this one, Cas. You're still an angel, Cas. Please don't hurt yourself. None of these words were spoken aloud, but a fervent prayer, to him, to anyone, to a God if there ever was one, that Castiel could do just one thing for him: to stay and heal, and let us put him back together.

Even Castiel's sleep wasn't easy, Dean flinched, as he caught fragmented mutterings of Enochian, as sleep became deeper, and the throaty sound of the words forming in the back of Castiel's throat made his skin prickle. Another look was taken, another evaluation, and Dean could see the human, the man, around Castiel's weighted frame and frail breaths.

He lightly nudged him awake, as they made it onto the freeway, pulling into a diner. He made sure that Cas ate, and clutched to Castiel's offhand remark of having been there before. He was talking. That was good. For once, Dean talked, about Sam, moving onto the inane, because Dean could talk without Cas taking off, leaving him alone, with a thousand thoughts dancing on his tongue.

"You should be with Sam, Dean."

You needed me, Dean thinks, although he can't bring himself to say this out loud, so he takes another drink out of his coffee instead, chewing down a bite of his burger, and saying he could make ones that are much better.

He considers saying, talk to me, but he can't do that either. He's too afraid of what Cas'll say, do, or just the rejected silence between them of a broken connection. Castiel wouldn't meet his eyes.

~:~

Dean rushed upstairs, crying "Sam!"

"Bathroom!" Sam called back. "I think it's Cas!"

No, you were supposed to let me fix this, Cas. Please no.

Dean's chest collapses in on itself, and for a moment he can't breathe, as he takes in the red water, and the droplets of blood staining the marble floor. "Cas." He breathes, an automatic, unintentional prayer of denial, hitched in his throat.

He scrambled around the mansion, looking for the angel, looking for all the places he could think of for the angel to hide. Normally, he just sat inside on the sofa, channel-surfing, his eyes blank and vacant, dying more each day with no good news from Kevin. But Dean was too busy looking after Sam to do anything about it.

He found him, at three am, finally, in one of the outhouses, knees drawn into his chest, hands clenched around something in his hand. "I was looking for you, everywhere Cas. I was worried -"

This was acknowledged with an vacant stare.

The next question was asked by Dean with hesitation. "Cas, did you hurt yourself on purpose?"

No answer, from the subdued Castiel, as he stared into the dark.

Dean left the shed, with a promise to return, coming back with a first aid kit, another set of clothes, two blankets and some hot chocolate, which Castiel left untouched. Castiel didn't protest, as Dean took off his shirt. His back was sticky with blood, which Dean daubed off with antiseptic, making Castiel flinch. Dean could feel the ridges of scar tissue and bone where Cas's wings used to be. "Cas." He breathes, and Castiel can hear the love and concern in Dean's voice, and it fills him with guilt, but he doesn't know how to word it, so it lets the silence blanket them both, as Dean's soft voice flickered out like a candle. "I was trying to put my wings back together." Castiel confesses eventually, next to a half asleep Dean, his fist unclenching displaying the ravaged remains of a feather, clumped in bloody ash. "But I can't stop them from falling..." Dean reached out for the feather, his eyes shining in the dark. "We'll get them back Cas." He promised, combing out the clumps from the raven black feather. "It's beautiful."

"Thank you." Cas sighed, before his head slackened, as it tilted onto Dean's shoulder, nestling into his warmth.

~:~

Dean called Charlie the next day, no longer feeling able to cope. Castiel had gone back to watching mindless television, beer bottles spilled out across the table. Sam was still...not getting much better. Kevin was holed up translating the tablet.

"Hey, I'm Charlie, it's good to finally meet you Cas."

Castiel wouldn't even meet her gaze, giving a barely passable nod of acknowledgement.

"I don't know what to do about him, Charlie," Dean hissed, cutting up vegetables as he cooked soup that neither him, Charlie, Kevin and Castiel would really eat. "He barely does anything, he won't even look at me Charlie, and I'm just - I'm scared - it's not like I can take him to a psychologist or just...I'm useless Charles."

Charlie hugged him tight, Dean buried his head in her hair, breathing the hug in. "You're not useless Dean. Just give him time, he's been through a lot."

"I'm scared for him Charlie. He's going to hurt himself one day, and I'm not going to be there in time -"

Charlie withdrew from the hug, shaking her head. "That's not going to happen Dean. I promise." She crossed her arms, deep in thought. "You're coming with me, Dean-o." She grabbed his arm, and his eyes widened in protest. "Sam's got you on speed dial. Kevin's in the house, it'll be fine." She reassured him. "It's not your job to pull him out of it, Dean." She told him. "But you can support him as he works through it."

~:~

Castiel's TV watching was interrupted, as Dean switched it off. "I got something for you Cas." He offered, trying to get lethargic, defeated Castiel to focus on him. "You're going to have to look after them, because I don't know how in the hell I'll be able to, but -"

"Where are you taking me Dean?" Castiel asked, his voice flat, barely having enough energy to protest properly, or even fake curiosity, tugged along, by Dean's tight grip on his wrist.

Castiel blinked, surprised. He laughed, a small one at that, but still a laugh so Dean would take it. "Ass hat." He said, as he walked over to one of the wooden hives, on the Winchester's lawn bending over to look inside.

"They don't have bees yet, but...it was the only thing I could think of, besides moonshine, women or drugs."

Cas laughed again, one from the deep pit of his belly, and Dean laughed back, for the first time in a long time. "Thank you Dean."

"You should really thank Charlie, it was her idea." Dean said.

Castiel smiled. "I will."

~:~

The favour wasn't returned until a couple of weeks later, when on one of Castiel's good days, which did not come often, he managed to make a cherry pie, partially burnt around the crust, and undercooked in places, but scarfed down, still hot by a grateful Dean and a not so grateful Kevin, Sam and Charlie, who he'd called down to visit. Dean gave her a nudge at her questioning glance towards the "dish" with a look that said -you dare say anything about the food I swear I will beat you senseless.


End file.
